


As Long As You Hold Me in Your Memory

by mrsreginagold (soleil_fiore14)



Category: Penny Dreadful (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Caliban's eternal struggle is that he is completely smitten with Vanessa, F/M, he must accept it, how to tell your soul mate that you remember and love her, there is no cure for it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-02
Updated: 2016-07-02
Packaged: 2018-07-19 14:44:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7365769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soleil_fiore14/pseuds/mrsreginagold
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Caliban's memories of the time he shared with Vanessa in Banning Clinic have resurfaced. The problem he faces is telling her that he recalls everything, including a kiss that is haunting him. Set after "A Blade of Grass" but set in an alternate universe of season 3, where different choices are made.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As Long As You Hold Me in Your Memory

**Author's Note:**

> I began watching Penny Dreadful last fall, after a move which resulted in having access to Showtime. I had actually seen the very first episode for free online when the show initially premiered, but sadly I did not have the channel and therefore could not continue. Once I was able to watch the first two seasons: I devoured them. Gothic literature has been a love of mine since I was young, and so the series felt in many ways like a love letter. Frankenstein happens to be my favorite Gothic novel (next to The Phantom of the Opera, that is), so when I first met The Creature, I fell hopelessly in love with him due to Rory Kinnear's amazing performance. 
> 
> The relationship between Caliban (my preferred name for The Creature and what I choose to utilize in my fic) and Vanessa struck me immediately and tugged at my shipper heartstrings. Eva and Rory have amazing chemistry and their scenes together are utter magic, so you can imagine what a joy "A Blade of Grass" actually was to watch as it featured mainly the two of them and developed my favorite relationship in such a way that it became a very cherished OTP. 
> 
> I've actually been writing fic for these two since I finished the first two seasons of the show. I have a small collection of one-shots, some connected together but most being stand-alone, and a few in-progress multi-chapter AUs that I am continually developing. Since this pairing is not terribly popular I was reluctant to share my work as my forte tends to be fluff, and a lot of the pieces may seem a bit repetitive because I am practicing love scene writing and trying to get their voices down. However, dear friends of mine convinced me that I should share my contributions now that the series has ended, so this is the first of my humble offerings.

As Long As You Hold Me in Your Memory

 

 

              When his past fully resurfaces, it is like a flood: overwhelming and powerful in the onslaught of emotion it causes.

              One thing stands out in particular: his time spent with Vanessa Ives, and specifically the two very _different_ kisses that they shared. One was a peculiar mix of desperation and passion, while the other was much sweeter, if tragic because they were parting ways.

              Leaving her to the mercy of the doctors at Banning Clinic hurt him dearly, but not recalling her at all when they had met again after his rebirth -- that only filled him with shame. It is possibly for that reason that he cannot get the memory of kissing her out of his head.

              When they finally reconnect, he searches her eyes to see if there is a flicker of remembrance on her end, but he finds none. He is only slightly disappointed, as he has news to tell her: he is remembering who he is and has found the family that he left behind. He neglects to mention that it was death that separated him from them, as that is better suited for when they have proper privacy, and not while they are walking among the streets of London.

              Still, when she takes his arm, it sends a thrill through him, and he is unable to contain his joy at being around her once again.

 

              “May I inquire as to where we are going?” He asks as Vanessa as they navigate the crowded streets. She is guiding him somewhere unfamiliar to him, and though he trusts her with all his heart, he is still cautious.

              “My home, actually, so we may speak candidly and away from prying ears,” she replies, treating him to a lovely smile.

              His heart flutters even though the idea of being alone with her in the place she resides also fills him with trepidation.

              Vanessa seems to sense his discomfort and leans her head gently on his shoulder. “I promise you, your honor will remain intact, Mr. Clare.”

              He flushes and glances at her. “If we’re to be candid, I should inform you that I no longer go by that name.”

              “Then what should I call you?”

              He thinks about it for a moment before a slight smile crosses his face. “I was given a nom-de-theatre when I worked at the Grand Guignol…I was called Calban.”

              “From _The Tempest_?” Vanessa arched a perfect eyebrow.

              He nodded. “I always found it fitting.”

              “Well if that is what you prefer, then I shall adopt it, Caliban…” she tests the name out. “I admit, it does roll off the tongue nicely.”

              Her innocent comment brings back images of the more passionate kiss they had shared and how clever her tongue had been.

              He clears his throat self-consciously and tries to push the memories down. “Yes, I suppose it does.”

              She smiles. “Then come along, Caliban, I think it is about time that I show you where I live.”

              He nods, and then she laces their fingers together and leads the way.

 

              When they arrive, she offers to take his coat. At first he hesitates, but it only takes a reassuring arm on his own for him to acquiesce.

              While Vanessa puts their coats away, Caliban wanders around the parlor and takes in his surroundings. The room itself is quite lovely with its mahogany furniture and elegant wallpaper, and he admires the shelves lined with books while he waits for his host to return.

              He picks up a volume of poetry and goes to sit on the couch, a fond smile crossing his features as he discovers familiar verses.

              He looks up from the tome in his hands when the tell-tale click of Vanessa’s heels alert him to her return. She is carrying a tray with a pot of tea, two cups, and a plate of biscuits.

              “I thought some refreshments would be welcome,” she explains as she sets the tray down on the coffee table that’s directly in front of the couch.

              “That’s very kind of you, Miss Ives,” he graciously accepts the cup that she fills before she sits down next to him.

              “Please, call me Vanessa,” she chuckles.

              He takes a quick sip of tea; it’s a light, fragrant jasmine-blend and he swallows it before replying: “If that is what you wish.”

              She turns to look at him, and he does his best to not fidget under her curious gaze. Here, in the sunlight that filters cheerily into the room, she can see the livid scar on his face much more clearly, and he knows she must have questions about it.

              “May I?” She lifts her hand towards his face, her tone gentle.

              Though fear coils in the pit of his stomach at her request, he reminds himself that if his unusual pallor, yellow eyes, and that scar hadn’t terrified her before: it’s doubtful that touching him now will. He puts his teacup down and slowly nods in consent, and then her warm, soft fingers are running lightly along the jagged flesh.

              He bites back a moan at the contact, as the barest brush of her skin against his own is enough to cause his heart to pound wildly in his chest. He is suddenly consumed with the desire to gather her into his arms, but he does not dare.

              “Forgive me, but I’ve always wanted to do this,” she admits, her hand traveling down to caress lightly over his neck, where the scar eventually ends.

              “There is nothing to forgive,” he manages, his voice hoarser than normal. Her touch is slowly driving him insane and yet he cannot bring himself to pull away from her.

              “Is this why you fear returning to your old life?” she moves her hand around to card her fingers languidly through his hair.

              “Partly…the truth is: I am much changed from the man they knew.”

              “Surely that won’t matter?” she finally let her hand slip away.

              A humorless laugh escapes him and he looks at his hands. “Look at me, Vanessa. Even if you loved the man that I once was, could you find it in your heart to love a beast?”

              “…and what if I already do?”

              Incredulously, he brings his gaze back to hers, and it only takes a moment for him to realize that she _knows._

Suddenly: there is so much that he wishes to say to her, but he cannot form the words.

              Vanessa saves him the trouble by leaning in and pressing her lips ever-so-lightly to his, initiating a kiss that only proves how deep her feelings for him run.

              He is quickly swept away by emotion: his fingers tangling in her hair as he deepens the embrace.

              She curls into his arms, her hands coming to rest upon his chest right above his heart. His pulse is thundering against her palms by the time she pulls back and murmurs: “I’m sorry, I realize I may be overstepping boundaries by what I just did but…”

              He shakes his head. “Vanessa, to be perfectly honest: part of the reason I have been reluctant to reconnect with the family I left behind is because I found you.”

              “Really?”

              His heart leaps at her hopeful expression. “And if…if you’ll have me, I would like the chance to make you happy.”

              “If that will make _you_ happy, Caliban.”

              “Nothing will make me happier,” he confesses, tracing along the curve of her jaw and smiling sweetly.

              She leans in again, and this time there is no hesitation on his part when their lips meet in a far more passionate kiss than the first they had shared.

              Vanessa shifts so she can climb onto his lap, a low moan escaping him when her hands wander and find their way under the hem of his worn sweater.

              They sink back together on the couch, meeting over and over in kisses that steadily grow in ardor until Vanessa tugs away and whispers: “While I am not minding this, I do have a question.”

              “What is it?”

              She tucks an errant strand of hair back over his ear. “Are you not technically still married?”

              It’s a question he’s unsure he has the right answer to. “Well…” he inhales sharply before admitting: “I believe that the vows state ‘til _death_ do us part, which would mean that I am longer bound by them.”

              She arches an eyebrow. “You are going to have to elaborate.”

              “Do you have all afternoon?”

              “And evening, and tomorrow…however long it takes,” she sighs and nestles into his embrace, resting her head upon his chest as their legs tangle together.

              “Very well then…” his breath rustles her hair and he curls his arms protectively around her before launching into the story he has been meaning to tell her for some time.

 

              When he is done telling the tale of his life, death, and rebirth, Vanessa is silent for a few minutes as she processes it all.

              She moves in order to stare down at him, and he is startled to see that her beautiful blue eyes are welling up with tears.

              He reaches up and strokes gently over her cheek. “Please do not cry,”

              “That is proving rather difficult after all you have just told me. And…you truly wish to be with me more than you wish to return to the family who made you happy?”

              “They are my past. I am grateful for the memories that I have of them, and that I was able to see them once more and help them in my way, but… _you_ are my future.”

              “Are you certain? I’ve told you before that there is a darkness that surrounds me, and I have no desire to pull you into it if there is a happier alternative.”

              He carefully pushes her back so he can sit up and gather her close. “I’ve never been so certain of anything, Vanessa Ives, for I love you.”

              He does not expect her next action, which is to launch herself at him.

              The movement throws them both off balance and they topple off of the couch, but soon there is laughter and plenty of kisses and nothing else really seems to matter.

 

              “If you had told me that I would spend this afternoon…and evening…in such a pleasant manner,” Caliban sighs as Vanessa stretches, cat-like, against him. “I likely would not have believed you.”

              “All the more reason for you to stay,” she looks up at him, her eyes hopeful. “So I can prove to you how worthy of affection you are.”

              His gaze softens and he brushes her hair back from her face. “Of course I will stay. I’ve already promised, have I not?”

              She nods and then presses a lazy kiss to the scar that stretches across his clavicle, and he closes his eyes as he revels in the warmth of her lips against the much cooler temperature of his bare skin.

              He has already lost track of how many times they have made love. Lightly, he trails his fingers over the brand of a cross that mars the otherwise smooth flesh of her back. When he had discovered the mark, he asked for the story behind it, and once it was told he spent a fair amount of time showering affection there.

              Vanessa mumbles something incoherent, her words muffled against his skin, which makes him laugh softly. “That tickles, you know.”

              She tilts her chin up and smirks. “Does it?”

              “For some reason my scars are more sensitive. No idea why…” his breath catches in his throat when she purposely blows over the one that traverses the center of his chest. “…okay that is unfair.”

              This time, she is the one who laughs, and he quickly learns that when she sets her mind to mischief: there is no escape.

              Granted; he would not have it any other way, and retaliates in kind.

 

The End

             

             


End file.
